There was a mystery in the air,
And in the primrose light;
The silence seemed to say, “Prepare!
It shall be done to-night!”
And could that mystery only mean
A dog that was not fat?
I saw a glint of elfin green
In the moonshine where he sat—
I heard the midnight clocks all round,
In distant falls and swells—
I heard a little silver sound,
The clink of elfin bells—
But will my princess be unbound,
If anybody tells?
AUTUMN SONG
THE ash-berry clusters are darkly red;
The leaves of the limes are almost shed;
The passion-flower hangs out her yellow fruit;
The sycamore puts on her brownest suit.
After a silence, the wind complains,
Like a creature longing to burst its chains;
The swallows are gone, I saw them gather,
I heard them murmuring of the weather.
The clouds move fast, the south is blowing,
The sun is slanting, the year is going;
O I love to walk where the leaves lie dead,
And hear them rustle beneath my tread!